The Library
by Foenixir
Summary: Draco approached the table in earnest. Just as he was tugging his bookbag off to mark his territory, he spotted a bird's nest on the table. No, not a nest. A girl. With absolutely atrocious hair. / Starts year 1. Secret Dramione pairing that is canon with the books. Slow burn.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: My first fic (ever) and a pretty successful effort in procrastination from studying, if I do say so myself. Since it's my first, I make no promises about actually finishing this fic. I just want to contribute more canon to the universe.

Disclaimer – I own nothing. I don't even really know where this story is going.

* * *

The library was not wholly unpleasant, Draco mused. In fact, the rows of mahogany rather reminded him of the library at the Manor. Shelves spanned the room, and each section overflowed with books sorted by genre: Charms, Potions, Herbology. The librarian, Madam Pince, stood at one end of the room, carefully sorting through and inspecting a high stack of tomes. With each flick of her wand, another book floated through the air to its proper resting place. Although every now and then a book seemed to land on its respective shelf with a dull _thud_, leaving a soft cloud of dust in its wake.

It was Draco's second week at Hogwarts. So far he remained unimpressed overall. With the exception of a few familiar faces- Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Pansy Parkinson, and Professor Snape- Draco hadn't found anyone worth associating with. The professors were… eccentric at best. The students seemed to strive for mediocrity.

There were a few considerations, of course. Draco had extended his hand to Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, and Potter had outright rejected Draco's offer. In front of their entire class too! A blush started to return to Draco's face at the memory. He had yet to divulge the incident to his mother and father. "Malfoys don't welcome embarrassment," Father would say. Instead, Potter had aligned himself with a Weasley. _A Weasley! _A tattered, dirty,_ poor _weasel_. _That family had more freckles between them than they had galleons. Draco had even tried to warn Potter about Weasley and that witless giant Hagrid after Potter had snubbed him, and Potter had gone and sicced a rat on them! Granted, he might have slipped in a comment about Potter's parents, but he was doing him a _favor_. A favor Potter didn't seem to recognize, apparently. The rumors had to be true then; Harry Potter had been raised by muggles. That was, of course, the only possible explanation for Potter's complete lack of distinction between wizarding class. There could be no other reason why Potter preferred the company of _rodents_ to purebloods. Draco shuddered with disgust and quickly shoved the thought out of his mind.

He was also keen to acquaint himself with one Marcus Flint. He had caught Flint leaving the Slytherin common room last week in his quidditch gear. It was easy to spot him. Flint had all but shoved a few first years on his way out the door. With some effort, perhaps he could convince Flint to invite him onto the Slytherin team next year. He could imagine himself in the green and silver robes now, snitch already in his hand. Seeker was his preferred position, of course; maximum glory with minimal effort. All he'd have to do is focus on catching the snitch. Plus, it helped that he was slightly smaller in stature than his housemates, and that he was practically a natural with a broom. He had been flying on Comets since before he could walk. Between Draco's skill and his father's persuasion, there was no way Flint could reject him the way Potter had.

Yes, Draco had spent his first week observing and acquainting himself with Hogwarts and its inhabitants. After all, Father had instilled in him the importance of one's network (Malfoys only associate themselves with the best). Over the past few days, Draco had been sorted into the best house, identified the best Slytherins, and now he was on a quest for the best study location. The table he chose would be where he'd spend the next seven years studying. Malfoys loved tradition, after all.

As Draco stepped further into the library, he closely inspected the tables. Across from Madam Pince sat a Hufflepuff couple passing notes to each other and giggling. Madam Pince shot a sharp _shush_ in their direction. No, he didn't want anything near the front of the room… too much foot traffic. Draco ventured forth and noticed an empty table off to the side that looked promising, but unfortunately it was poorly lit. That wouldn't do. He was heading into the Magical Creatures section now, and noticed a faint smell of dung that clung to those shelves. Draco wrinkled his nose and walked a little faster. To his left was a flock of girls huddled at the tables by Divination. That would get annoying fast. No, he needed an area that would be practically silent. He considered his classes from the week. Professor Binns had nearly put him to sleep, so the History section would be his best bet. He took a sharp right, mentally noting the Restricted Section roped off in the distance. He'd have to try to sneak a book from there in the future. Something about the Dark Arts that he could show off to Crabbe and Goyle later.

In his beeline for History, Draco had almost missed Ancient Runes. And there he saw it. Up ahead was the perfect table. _His_ table. Half of it was hidden by the end of a bookcase, so it was hard to spot. No students. No smell. And positioned near a window. The shelves here seemed to stand slightly closer together than in the rest of the library, so it resembled a kind of narrow storage area. This was likely what deterred students from studying here. It was just cramped enough and almost completely surrounded by books, so there was no way to get distracted. Draco loved it.

Draco approached the table in earnest. Just as he was tugging his bookbag off to mark his territory, he spotted a bird's nest on the table. No, not a nest. A girl. With absolutely atrocious hair. Draco fumed internally. This witch had apparently claimed his beloved table before he did. How _dare_ she.

He could tell from her robes that she was a Gryffindor. He'd expect a Ravenclaw to find his desk, sure, but a Gryffindor? Surely all of them were outside running amok and creating chaos. Yet, this witch, defiant in her presence, sat hunched so far over her book that she didn't even notice him.

"Ahem," he cleared his throat pointedly. Maybe she would take a hint and notice his green robes. With any luck, she'd run off in fear and he could settle into his desk in peace.

She continued reading, completely unfazed.

Draco paused a moment to consider his options. Perhaps he could find another table? No. He knew there wouldn't be another desk in such a prime location. Maybe he could study in the common room for the time being. Draco rejected that idea immediately. No. This was his table. _His_ table. _She_ would just have to leave.

"_Ahem_," he attempted again. The young witch looked up at him, and he was momentarily caught off guard by the shade of her eyes. They were rather light, weren't they? A bit brighter than chocolate. Maybe closer to amber. Or even a honey. He squinted slightly to make out a bit more detail from where he stood. Yes, her eyes were closer to honey, with what looked like rings of autumn flecks. They were fairly striking, actually. Just below her eyes sat a dainty little nose and a set of full pink lips. Her skin looked so smooth and soft, not a blemish in sight. Her face was… rather pretty. All of this was, of course, half obscured by an obscene mass of frizz that threatened to consume her entire head. Not to mention she was a _Gryffindor_. The pretty thing likely had cobwebs where her brain should be. Cobwebs, Draco noted, that clearly erupted from her skull and had come alive in the form of that offensive hair.

"Yes?" She asked, and Draco realized he had been staring at her for several seconds. Just as he found his voice again to tell her to sod off, she continued. "I'm reading, can't you see? It's a rather interesting book too: _Magical Theory_. I'm getting ahead a bit, but I'd like to read in peace if you don't mind."

Ah. He recognized her now. She was the girl that had practically leapt from her seat in Potions on Friday. How annoying. What was her name again? Garron? Grandy? Regardless, she was looking at him rather expectantly and Draco knew he had to respond lest he come across like a… well, like a Hufflepuff. "I'd like to sit here," he managed to get out. Brilliant. Well, at least he got his point across.

Her face scrunched ever so slightly, so the tiniest crease appeared between her furrowed brows. "Okay…" and she motioned to the seat across from her. "But I really am trying to study quietly."

Draco's eyebrows shot up. Did she really expect him to sit with her? And what did _that_ comment mean? _She_ was the one prattling on incessantly, not him. He looked at the chair in front of him. He supposed he could sit here. It's not like he was planning to study loudly, and based on the way she had been engrossed in her textbook, he doubted she'd make much noise either. Plus, she seemed like the know-it-all type. Perhaps he could copy off her when she wasn't looking. It's not like she'd notice anyway; her nose had already returned to the center binding of her textbook.

With some reluctance, Draco dropped his bookbag on the floor next to the chair, and dragged the chair out so he could sit, making sure to scratch the floor with a long _scrrrrrreeeechh_ in protest. She tensed briefly, almost imperceptibly, and Draco felt smug. He pulled his books out of his bag and set them on the desk one at a time, taking his time so she knew she wasn't welcome.

She pushed her chair back and got up quickly, and Draco felt her shoot a quick look at him before she walked away and into the depths of the shelves. A victorious sigh escaped from him. The girl had taken the hint. Finally, he could get on with studying without any distractions. The picture of her honey gaze entered his mind for a brief second before Draco flipped open his Potions textbook. An enjoyable subject would help shift his attention.

The witch returned with an even heavier book (what was that, a _cinder block?_) and dropped it on their table with a loud _THUD. _Draco glared at her, and she returned his expression with a sickly-sweet smile. Her eyes twinkled with triumph, and _Merlin_, Draco, could you _stop_ looking at her eyes? A damn siren, that one. Draco returned to his book, scowling to himself for several moments while trying to plot ways to subtly torment her. It occurred to him, then, that he had spent quite a bit of time _not_ studying, and if he retaliated now she would likely return the favor. No, it would be better to put a pin in this for now so he could study, and then he could get back at her later.

She sat down again and opened her tome, and Draco silently wished her hair would engulf her face and suffocate her. After several minutes in mutual silence, however, Draco's annoyance began to dissipate, and soon he barely registered her presence. He knew she was there, of course, as she would regularly turn her page (sometimes rather excitedly). And of course, she would unknowingly mutter the occasional _hm_ and _ah_. But these ambient sounds didn't seem to bother Draco as much. In fact, he was beginning to find them rather rhythmic and calming. That, and a very faint scent of vanilla that surrounded them.

This wasn't so bad. He supposed it would have been a little eerie studying alone in this isolated corner of the library. She would still pay later, undoubtedly. But for now, their unspoken arrangement suited Draco well. Again, he could still copy off of her if he wanted to.

Draco chanced a quick glance in her direction, and noticed a soft smile on her lips.

No, he mused, this was not wholly unpleasant.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Call me a traditionalist, but I'm going to try my best to follow the books (with maybe a few quotable lines from the movies, hehe 😊 ). The books just offer more day-to-day detail that I'd love to incorporate. With that being said, this chapter takes place right around The Potions Master / Midnight Duel in Sorcerer's Stone. I pulled the helicopter detail from there (how did Draco know the word "helicopter?")

Disclaimer: And with THAT being said, I own nothing.

* * *

"Granger? That's a rather odd name, isn't it?" Draco asked the following week. He made sure to catch her name in Potions class. Even if Snape said it while docking two points from Gryffindor for "Miss Granger's inability to keep quiet." Draco knew where to find her the next day, and he stood before her at their table in the library.

"Less unusual than 'Malfoy' I think," Hermione said without skipping a beat. She didn't even look up from her parchment. So she knew who he was, did she? Made sense. The Malfoy name had demanded respect in the wizarding world for centuries.

"And your first name is Hermione? I've never heard a name like that before. Where is your family from then? America?" Draco knew it was a silly question, but he couldn't help but be curious about her upbringing. Between her marks in Potions and her… features… she was quite the mystery.

"Do I sound American?" Hermione asked coolly.

"Well no…" Malfoy scowled at her sarcasm, but took his seat across from her. "But I've never heard of a 'Granger' wizarding family in Britain," he pressed. Draco was familiar with all of the pureblooded families in the country. Between the family archives at the Manor and his mother's annual Christmas gala, Draco knew anyone worth knowing.

She seemed a bit ruffled at that, but kept her voice steady. "Did you come here to study or to interrogate me, _Malfoy_," she emphasized his surname.

"The latter, obviously, _Granger_." Cheeky girl.

Hermione looked up at that, clearly not expecting such a blunt response. "Not that it matters, but you haven't heard of a Granger wizarding family because there isn't one." She paused and held her breath for a moment before darting her eyes back to her paper. "My parents are muggles."

Draco stared at her blankly for a second. That didn't make any sense. She was far more talented than most of the students. Him aside, she was the most talented witch in their year. Definitely. Maybe even the most talented at Hogwarts, in fact. He had watched her in Potions and she was a natural. Magic seemed to flow through her with ease, as if it had been running through her veins for generations. Besides, he always imagined muggleborns to be rather… dumpy. Which she most certainly was not. If you ignored that ridiculous animal on her head. No, she must be joking!

Draco scoffed. "Good one, Hermione," he brushed it off. Maybe it would be safer to use her first name, though, just in case. "You almost had me going." He started to pull his books out of his bag, inviting himself into her study space.

"Believe what you want… Draco," she replied softly. "I'm a muggleborn."

He paused. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Why's that?"

"Well you're…" pretty. No, not the right response. He chose his next words carefully. "… a decent witch." Draco eyed her warily.

She snorted at that. "Thank you for the glowing compliment, Malfoy."

Draco bristled at her use of his last name. Clearly the witch was offended. Well that was her own fault then. It's not like he had insulted her. "Maybe you're distantly related to a wizarding family. Like the Greengrasses," he casually suggested. That could be a plausible explanation. _Move around a few letters and the names aren't so different_, he thought to himself. He opened up his book.

She put her quill down at that and looked him in the eye.

Draco looked up and was instantly mesmerized. Did the witch study hypnosis too?

"I'm a muggleborn, Malfoy." She repeated. "We can study here if you want. But I'd like to study. Hopefully my parentage won't get in the way of that?"

He studied her face. It was far-fetched to think of her as muggleborn. She was too talented to come from some random muggle family. It was far more likely that she was some distant relative to a wizarding family and her parents were just squibs. Maybe a family in France. Or perhaps she was adopted. Yes, that could be it. But he could tell from her expression that she wasn't going to give this up, nor their table. And she had just invited him to study with her (which made his stomach flutter.) He'd just have to research on his own.

"Alright," he drawled. He decided to change the subject. "Are you studying for Potions?"

"Not yet," she replied. "Finishing up with my Herbology assignment." She frowned. "Although I probably should study more for Potions. At least try to make up for the points Gryffindor keeps losing. I don't understand why we keep getting points taken away. I mean, I'm just trying to answer Professor Snape's questions. Although it does seem like he has it out for Harry and Ron," she ranted.

Draco sniggered. "Potter and Weasley deserve it." Honestly, seeing the wonder duo's faces fall every time Snape docked points from them was the highlight of Draco's week. All of the other teachers seemed to love Potter and Weasley. He had even heard that Professor Flitwick fell off his chair when he met Potter. And for what? Potter had no remarkable magical talent, it seemed, and Weasley was a _commoner_.

Hermione's frown deepened. "Oh, I don't think so. Ron and Harry aren't _that_ bad." Despite her comment, Draco found himself actually enjoying talking to Hermione. It was refreshing to have a conversation with someone new. Although the bar was low. Crabbe and Goyle basically communicated through a series of grunts and vague hand gestures. Pansy just wanted to list all the ways the Parkinson house was better than Hogwarts. "The food is much better at home. Our house elves actually have cooking skills. Don't you think the roast is rather dry here, Draco?" she'd whine.

Regardless of Draco enjoying Hermione's company, he disagreed with her when it came to Potter and Weasley. "Oh please, Hermione. They roll their eyes at each other any time you raise your hand."

"Hmph."

It was true. Potter and Weasley clearly didn't understand how invaluable Hermione was. If she was as gifted in the rest of her classes as she was at Potions, and he suspected she was, she could easily be the brightest witch in the school. She would be a particularly helpful person to associate with, even if she was a Gryffindor. He didn't dare consider the consequences if she was truly a muggleborn like she claimed to be.

"Professor Snape seems to like you," she interrupted his thoughts.

"Well, yes." He spoke as if this was obvious. "Snape is a family friend. Mother and Father invite him to the Manor from time to time. He's practically _family_."

"The Manor?"

"Malfoy Manor? Surely you've heard of it."

"Can't say I have."

Draco was shocked. For someone so brilliant, she sure was uncultured. "Malfoy Manor is my family's estate in Wiltshire. The house and gardens were presented to my ancestors by King William I," he boasted. "We've lived there for a _millennium_."

Hermione looked at him thoughtfully. "House and gardens? Sounds rather grand. Do you have many siblings?"

"No…" Draco frowned. He was glad to have the undivided attention of his parents, even if it did get a little lonely. "But there's plenty to do!" he added defensively. "We have so much land that I can fly around for hours."

Hermione gave a soft smile but didn't say anything. Was she _pitying_ him? "I've even dodged those muggle sky tanks before," he continued. She should be _impressed_, right now. Silly witch must have grown up under a rock.

"Muggle sky tanks?"

He faltered. "You know… the metal ones?"

"Oh! Do you mean, airplanes?" she offered.

_Airplanes_, what a peculiar name. "Yes, the ones that spin on top." She was beginning to annoy him again.

"Ah. Helicopters."

"Yes. Helicopters," he snapped. She was missing the point. Granger was giving him that pitying smile again and was about to return to her parchment when he quickly added, "And we have a _huge_ library too."

This piqued her interest. "Really? What kind of books do you have? How old are they?" she inquired.

_Bingo_.

"Oh, you know," he started airily. "All sorts of books. Potions, Herbology," he motioned to her paper, before leaning in. She followed suit and they were close enough for him to get a very pleasant whiff of vanilla. He lowered his voice. "Even the Dark Arts."

Her eyes widened. Draco was elated. "The Dark Arts?"

Draco leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on the table for effect. "Well, when your family has been around for as long as mine has, you learn to understand all kinds of magic. Our collection is even larger than the Restricted Section here." He was beginning to sound like Pansy.

But Hermione looked as interested as ever. "Oh? Have you been in the Restricted Section?"

Draco guessed that she might be impressed if he said yes. He offered a sly smile. "Well you just need a teacher's note. And Snape is a family friend, remember?" He wasn't _lying_, per se. He was just letting her come to her own conclusion.

"Huh," she looked at him as if she was just seeing him for the first time. "Well I'd be curious to see the Restricted Section, myself." Draco couldn't tell if she was calling his bluff or plotting with him. Likely both. Either way, she was interested.

"I couldn't get just _anyone_ into the Restricted Section, you know. That would be too obvious. Students would be asking me all the time" She smirked at him. "Maybe if they were a friend." Draco was raising the stakes. He wanted this witch (as an ally, of course). She was intriguing to him, and he had this inexplicable desire to… well he didn't know, really. The closest feeling was to _possess_ her. And if there was anything he learned from Father, it was that the most valuable currency was favors. All a Malfoy had to do was dangle the right carrot, and he had found hers. The girl loved books. That was useful information.

"_Hmmm_," she teased. The young witch tapped a finger on her chin as if to think.

"Maybe at least just friends in the library," he offered quickly. Carrot be damned. "I wouldn't want to be seen with a Gryffindor following me around the castle after all." Draco mentally patted himself on the back for the quick save.

Hermione grinned at him. "Right. _Of course_," she played along. "Well, Draco Malfoy, I guess you have a new friend."


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: So in my efforts to research canon Dramione moments for this series, I dusted off my Harry Potter books. Good idea, right? Nope. I have read the series many times. My books are 20 years old (I'm sure you can guess the edition). Pages have started FALLING OUT of The Prisoner of Azkaban, and you guys, I LOST my shit. So I'll come right out and say it… the binding is fragile.

Posting this chapter in between tears of mourning. I am officially packing up my set and keeping it in storage until I'm a withered old lady, and can bequeath my books to my offspring while I am on my deathbed. The Amazon order of paperbacks is already on its way. Do I have any shame in owning two sets of HP books? Absolutely not. When the illustrated versions are all out, you better believe I'll buy those too.

Anyway, this chapter occurs in tandem with the first half of The Midnight Duel / mid-September 1991. Hermione's birthday is in that time frame. So 2 + 2 = …Chapter 3! I really loved writing this entry, too. It just flowed!

**Special Thanks: AppleOrangePie**, you brave first reviewer. You kind friend. You beautiful soul. Thank you for your encouragement.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not even intact HP books anymore

* * *

Over the next couple of days, Draco's interest had seeped out of the library and Potions class, and into the castle. He would look for her everywhere. She wasn't hard to spot- that conspicuous shrub on her head frequently gave her away.

By breakfast on Wednesday, he was openly watching her in the Great Hall. Hermione had glanced in his direction a couple of times, which both thrilled and mortified him. But his attention found its way back to her again when she received a package with a large ribbon on it. Hermione unwrapped it with delight as Parvati Patil leaned over to undoubtedly ask her what she got. _Parvati is so nosy_, Draco thought to himself as he observed the exchange. At that moment, Neville Longbottom sat down next to the pair of girls. Longbottom must have made a friendly comment to Hermione because she gave him the widest smile Draco had seen, her large white teeth displayed prominently. Draco felt something hot burn inside him. How could Neville Longbottom possibly say anything to evoke such a response? Longbottom was about as charming as a garden gnome.

Hermione offered him what looked like a food from her package, and Longbottom happily accepted it. As if he needed to become any rounder than he already was. Draco was beginning to seethe with envy at this point.

"She probably does Longbottom's homework for him too. I wouldn't be surprised if the Gryffindors took turns changing and burping him," Theodore Nott joked. He had noticed his friend watching the muggleborn witch for several minutes now.

Nott's joke earned a raucous cackle from Pansy, whose ears seemed to perk up whenever a Gryffindor was being made fun of. "Little Lumpy Longbottom can't do _anything_ right," she jibed. "Did you _see_ the way his potion attacked him the other week? Even his _potion_ couldn't stand him anymore!" She crowed again.

"I thought it was Potter's fault?" Nott responded.

"_Saint_ _Potter_," Draco spat. If there was anyone Draco despised in this moment more than Neville Longbottom, it was Harry Potter. It would always be Harry Potter. "He and Weasel are always late to class and the rest of us have to wait on them. And the teachers just _adore_ them for no reason at all. Potter _this_ and Potter _that_. Meanwhile, we Slytherins have already mastered basic magic," he fumed.

"Hogwarts is a joke," said Pansy. "Dumbledore should have separate classes for muggleborns and blood traitors. Better yet, I don't see why they should be allowed to attend Hogwarts at all. They're holding us back."

"The Granger girl seems to be doing well," commented Nott. "For a muggleborn, especially." He eyed his friend.

Draco glowered at his breakfast.

* * *

Draco was looking forward to seeing Hermione at their table in the library. He knew she'd already be there; he was getting used to her routine. She was laughably predictable, though. The witch was pretty much in the library any time she wasn't in class or in the Great Hall. He wouldn't be surprised if she had a little mattress in the corner of the library made out of books so she'd never have to leave. He almost laughed aloud at the image.

He spotted her easily. "I saw you got a package today," Draco remarked as he strolled up to their study area. His curiosity had been eating away at him all day.

Hermione shot a pretty smile at him as he sat down. "My birthday is tomorrow." She shrugged. "Mum and Dad haven't gotten used to owls yet. They still think it's slower than the muggle post so my gift came in early. Nothing extravagant, though… just some sugar-free fruit leathers and a book. You're welcome to try a leather if you want."

Draco was unsurprised she got a book for her birthday. "Fruit leathers?" He snorted. "What a terrible gift."

Hermione looked dismayed. "My parents are dentists so we don't really have sweets that much."

"Dentists?"

"They attend to people's teeth," she explained. "And sugar rots teeth."

Draco scoffed. "There are potions and elixirs for that. And you should have proper sweets on your birthday." He pulled out a shrink-wrapped lemon tart from his bag. "Here," he offered it to her.

Hermione reached across the table to accept the treat from him, tilting her head. "Do you often carry around desserts in your school bag?"

He shrugged. "My parents send them to me nearly every day. I couldn't eat them all by myself even if I wanted to. I reckon Mother sends extra sweets to share with Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle, Theo… you know." The Malfoy witch had in fact advised Draco before the school year to share his sweets with his House. ("Your father may believe in favors, but your housemates won't say no to sweets," she'd say before lowering her voice as if to share a secret with him. "A little simple bribery can go a long way.")

Hermione looked at him curiously. "Did you all know each other before Hogwarts?"

"Of course," he said matter-of-factly. "Our families are very close. We've all been friends for years. Some of us are even related I think." He thought back to an old family tree he had seen in the Manor with its branches spanning several meters of parchment. The Blacks, the Lestranges, the Malfoys… Draco had cousins he hadn't even met.

The young witch frowned. "Must be nice."

It dawned on Draco then that the girl might not have many friends. "You have friends," he offered in an attempt to cheer her up. He thought back to Parvati and Longbottom, and remembered the way the tosser had smiled at Hermione in the Great Hall. Draco's face started to tinge pink with jealousy again.

"Not really," Hermione sighed while smoothing out the wrinkled plastic with her thumb. "I think the other students find me annoying." She looked up at Draco, who was willing himself to stay expressionless. "I don't try to be. I just don't know how to talk to people. It was just me growing up, and the other kids in primary thought I was odd because strange things kept happening around me. Everyone shied away from me. I didn't even know I was magical until I got my letter." She looked back down at the lemon square. "But now that I'm here, it seems everyone already knows each other and the only people who like me are the teachers. And not even all of the teachers." Hermione leaned back in her seat, shoulders slumped. "Sometimes it's just easier to be around books."

Draco didn't know what to say. On the one hand, he felt a glimmer of pride at the fact that she confided in him as a friend. But it also made him uncomfortable to hear about her depressing muggle upbringing. He'd have to remember to check the pureblood family archives when he returned to the Manor for the holidays. He still didn't want to believe she was a muggleborn, despite her compelling tale.

Instead, he gave her a half smile. "Go on then, have a bite."

Hermione's expression softened. She glanced around nervously. "I don't know. I don't think we're supposed to eat in the library."

Draco chuckled. "I didn't realize you were such a stickler for rules, Hermione, what with your fascination with the Restricted Section and all," he teased. "Besides, there's no one here. This is our little corner, and we'll keep it between us."

"Some rules are worth breaking and some aren't," she smiled. "I couldn't live with myself if I accidentally got some rare book sticky, or damaged it because I couldn't wait to eat a lemon tart."

"Not even a _birthday_ lemon tart?"

"I'll eat it by my birthday. I promise."

"Have it your way." He started to flip open his Charms textbook. Sensing that he had cheered her up a bit, Draco felt more at ease.

She looked at him a moment longer. "Thank you for the treat, Draco," she said softly. "And please thank your mum for me."

Though Draco had no intention of relaying her thanks to his mother just in case she _was_ muggleborn, he welcomed her appreciation all the same. "Sure. I mean, it's not a big deal. We're friends, right?"

"Yes. We are" She beamed at him. His pulse quickened.

* * *

Draco put down his quill. He had reached a good stopping point in his note-taking, and as much as he relished studying with Hermione, two hours without her attention was almost too much. Draco peered at her only to see her scribbling furiously on her parchment. She then let out an exasperated groan and pushed her hair away from her forehead before scratching out whatever she had just written.

Concluding that Hermione could use a study break as well, Draco ripped off a square of parchment from the bottom of his scroll. He glanced at Hermione, but she didn't look up. Draco returned his focus to the parchment, and he pinched the center of the paper before twisting the end tightly. He took another sliver of parchment and carefully tied it around the twisted side like twine. Draco then made several tears in the untwisted end. Hermione still paid him no notice.

Finally, Draco tore off a strip of paper, wrote a few words on it, and tucked it into the small paper broom. Pulling his wand from his robes, he whispered a quick charm, and the toy floated up off the desk, and directly into Hermione's line of sight (which was particularly tricky since her line of sight was just the few centimeters between her and her notes.)

Hermione gasped. She looked up at Draco and he grinned in return. Then, with a wag of his eyebrows, he made the broom fly in circles around them and watched with joy as Hermione twisted and turned in her seat to follow the toy broom that waved "Happy Birthday" from its end.

"Draco!" she breathed. "That's amazing! Is that the Levitation spell? We're not supposed to learn that for weeks!" Then with a gasp she started flipping through her Charms textbook. "Right? That's not something I missed, is it?"

"No!" Draco let out a laugh. "We haven't covered it yet. I just wanted to show it to you." He floated the broom back down to their table where it landed gently in front of her.

She gave him a bright smile. _Take that, Longbottom._ "It's lovely magic," she beamed. "I've been practicing some spells on my own too, you know."

"Oh yeah?"

"_Mmhmm_." She gave him a wicked smirk. Her cute little nose scrunched up and Draco couldn't help but grin back at her. "I've been working on some BlueBell Flames."

Draco's eyebrows shot up. "Cold fire?" He was impressed. Manipulating matter was easier than creating them. He could move and minimize trinkets, sure, but conjuring objects was slightly more advanced. He believed Hermione could do it, though. He wouldn't even bet against her performing NEWT level magic.

"Want to see?" she whispered.

"What? In front of all these books? What if you _damage_ a book on Ancient Runes? Could you _live with yourself_?"

"Oh hush! That's what I have this for," and she reached into her bag and pulled out a small glass jar.

Draco let out a loud bark. This witch was full of surprises! "And here you mock me for keeping sweets in my bag."

She rolled her eyes and placed the jar on the table between them, one hand tilting the glass to face her. After a moment's focus, she pointed her wand in the jar and a bright blue flame shot out of her wand and rested itself at the bottom of the glass. Hermione looked up at him.

Draco was captivated. He could hardly tear his gaze from the blue fire between them. When he finally did look back up at her, her expression was one of pride and joy. Draco couldn't remember the last time he had so much fun talking to someone. He was beginning to… admire her.

"I've been working on a Protean charm" he spluttered.

"Protean charm?"

The blue flame flickered between them, and the hue danced across her features.

"I haven't figured it out yet. It's a bit tricky. But it's supposed to link objects together and make them act the same." Hermione looked at him quizzically. Draco continued, grabbing her parchment. "In theory, if I cast a Protean charm on our two parchments, whatever I write on mine will also appear on yours." He pushed her paper back to her.

"Really? How useful! Probably best for writing secret messages," she winked at him. Draco turned a deep red, grateful for their blue lighting. Did she actually wink at him?

He cleared his throat. "Yeah, I guess so. I'm still working it out." He stiffened. Nervousness was starting to set in and he couldn't quite figure out why.

She offered him a tender smile. "I really did like the broom, Draco. Thank you."

Draco felt his blush getting deeper. "I was just thinking about our Flying Lessons together tomorrow." That was _partially_ true, he supposed. Draco knew their Flying Lesson would be with Gryffindor in the morning. He was very much looking forward to showing off his flying skills to Hermione, as well as certainly mocking Potter and Weasel's inexperience.

Hermione's expression changed. "Oh, that's right! I saw the notice up in the common room today! Oh dear, I haven't even studied flying yet." She returned to her books, searching through them. "I'm going to be so unprepared," she moaned. "I don't know how to fly!"

"It's not really something you can learn from a book, Hermione," he pointed out.

"I know! But it couldn't hurt!"

* * *

Hermione awoke in the middle of the night to a _tap-tap-tap _at the window closest to her. She turned over groggily to see a large eagle owl staring directly at her.

_Tap. _

Drowsy and confused, Hermione opened the small window, and the large bird attempted to hop in. Upon realizing it was carrying a small parcel, Hermione untied the string to take the package. This gave the owl a little extra space to duck in, and it nipped at Hermione impatiently for its payment.

"Right, yes," Hermione muttered to herself before reaching in her book bag to see if she had anything to offer the messenger. She sifted through the items in her bag and felt the small shrink-wrapped dessert with her fingers. With a soft chuckle, she pulled the treat from the bag to unwrap it, and offered a broken piece to the bird, which it accepted happily before flying off.

Hermione looked at the parcel the owl had delivered. It was small and neat, tied together with a delicate string. Hermione pulled the twine to discover a note and small book inside.

_Happy birthday, Hermione._

_\- D.M. _

Beneath the note laid a library copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_. Hermione let out another chuckle and lit a BlueBell into the jar on her bedside. And there she celebrated the early hours of her birthday by studying flying and nibbling on a lemon tart.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: I've been wallflowering Dramione since college (reading regularly as a visitor, never left a review or a fave). If there are any fellow wallflowers out there, I feel you. As long as you're reading and enjoying, that's all I can ask for. But if you're ever in the situation where you are just bursting at the seams with a fic idea and you just need to write it out, I want to encourage you to share your story. I'm finding that the ffn community is incredibly kind and helpful, and their support makes me want to become a better writer. I couldn't feel luckier or more excited to continue writing.

Special Thanks: **lun27**. I'm not going to lie, your reviews are eerily on point and I'm loving it. It's like you've been reading my mind. And you are wonderfully talented at constructive feedback that is still encouraging. Thank you thank you. **AppleOrangePie, Alicetlty, and VanitasK** – Thank you for the kind words! Had to get my hands on a Quidditch Through the Ages this week to add some extra detail 😊

Disclaimer: I own nothing. HP/WB lawyers please know that there's about to be a lot of overlap with the books but it is all JKR's.

* * *

Draco's eyes scanned for Hermione at breakfast the next morning. He spotted her sitting at an end of the Gryffindor table by herself, reading _Quidditch Through the Ages_. A warm feeling glowed within Draco at the sight of her enjoying his gift, even if it was just a library book.

He thought the book might be helpful for his new friend. It was a good balance between the history of flying and Quidditch, so he was hoping it would distract her just enough to not feel anxious. He wanted to deliver it at midnight, especially given her their conversation last night. Did anyone in Gryffindor even know today was her birthday?

It was tricky getting the book to her. He had narrowly escaped Mrs. Norris in his journey to the Owlery last night. Her sharp meows had echoed down the corridor, and Draco had pressed himself up against a cold stone wall just in time to see Peeves zoom in her direction. Fortunately, Draco had brought a black cloak with him so he could hide in the shadows if needed. Otherwise his platinum hair would surely have given him away.

Sneaking around the castle last night was worth the risk. If Draco had handed the book to her this morning instead, a Slytherin might have noticed. That wasn't a conversation he was ready to have, no matter how much he enjoyed her company. And Draco's father would be visiting in a couple of weeks for a school Governors meeting. If one of his housemates let it slip to the elder Malfoy that Draco was friends with a potential muggleborn, Draco knew there would be consequences.

He wanted to stay friends with Hermione for as long as possible, even if it meant keeping their friendship a secret.

* * *

Hermione finished _Quidditch Through the Ages_ before the sun came up and decided to reread it. It was a fairly short book, but there were so many fascinating details. For example, prior to the modern Quaffle, early versions of Quidditch were played with dragon, goat, and pig bladders! And in the eleventh century, a witch named Gertie Keddle kept a diary in which she mentioned a game with a leather ball that would sometimes land in her cabbage patch. And this diary was now on display at the Museum of Quidditch in London. These were only a couple of details from the first chapters, and if Hermione had more time before her first Flying Lesson, she would have been tempted to transcribe the entire book.

She was grateful Draco had sent her the book last night. Just reading _anything_ about flying made her feel more prepared for today's class, although part of her wondered how he managed to sneak to the Owlery so late without being detected. But she had to stay focused on the more immediate issue: absorbing as much information as possible before Madam Hooch's class. With that in mind, she took the library book with her to the Great Hall early the next morning, and propped it up against her pumpkin juice so she could turn the pages with one hand and eat her porridge with the other. By the time she reached Chapter 5: Anti-Muggle Precautions, she had completely forgotten about the spoonful of porridge she had been holding halfway to her mouth, and the oats inevitably spilled from the spoon and onto her hair. Hermione absentmindedly wiped her hair with a napkin, her eyes still glued to the book.

"_Quidditch Through the Ages_?" Ron asked. Hermione looked up. Merlin, had he been here the whole time? "Are you trying to join the Gryffindor team?" he joked.

"Not at all," Hermione curtly replied. "First years aren't allowed to play on the Quidditch teams. I thought you of all people would know that, Ronald." Hermione noticed Ron tended to talk about Quidditch almost every evening. With two brothers on the team, surely, he should know by now that first years weren't allowed to try out. She chose not to mention that she wouldn't want to play Quidditch at any age. Between her (mild) fear of flying and the book's list of all the ways to commit a foul (pages 56-57), Hermione had reconciled with herself that this was one activity that she'd rather just observe.

"That was the joke…" Ron muttered to Harry, who was seated next to him. Harry snickered. "Anything about the Cannons in there?"

"The Chudley Cannons?" Hermione shifted in her seat. "I might've read something about them being lackluster…"

Ron, who had just bitten into his breakfast sausage, nearly choked. "'Lackluster?! Bollocks!" He gave Hermione a look of disgust. "I don't think you should be reading this book anymore, Hermione. The author clearly doesn't know what he's talking about."

"I'll have you know, Kennilworthy Whisp – "

"_Kennilworthy Whisp_? What kind of name – "

" – was endorsed by Bathilda Bagshot."

"Oh, _Bagshot_ again. Give it a rest, Herm – "

"And she called his research 'painstaking!'"

Ron glared at her.

At that moment, Neville arrived and took a seat next to Hermione. He looked rather queasy; his coloring was an uncanny match to the book's green cover. "A book about Quidditch? Is there anything in there that can help me prepare for today's flying lesson?" He grabbed a piece of toast and began tearing it into small pieces as his housemates looked at him with concern. "Not sure I can eat much today," he mumbled.

Hermione nodded with understanding. She had been feeling nervous all morning as well. "Unfortunately, there isn't _too_ much information about strictly flying," she began. "Although the book does provide excellent detail about different brooms. It is fascinating to understand how different broom-makers have tailored their products over the years to account for various factors when it comes to flying." She started flipping the pages to the end of the book, which earned a collective groan from Harry and Ron. "For example, thicker handles are better for strong winds… makes sense… but then the Moontrimmer and the Silver Arrow became popular since they were faster and more reliable at high altitudes. Oh, and the Cushioning Charm! Almost forgot to show you all…" She glanced at Neville, who was listening to her intently. "See here? Figure F?" She motioned to a diagram on the page. "In 1820, Elliot Smethwyck created a spell to give brooms invisible cushions. Much needed, apparently…"

Hermione's lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the mail. Dozens of owls descended to drop off the morning's packages, including one weary barn owl that narrowly missed Hermione's pumpkin juice. Fortunately, Hermione had grabbed her library book before any damage could be done. Other than a few stray fluffs of feather, the book was still in excellent condition.

She glanced up to see Neville untying a small package from the owl, and Harry and Ron looking on to see what he got. More interested in her book than she was in conversing about Neville's mail, Hermione took their momentary distraction as an opportunity to duck out unnoticed before she could tempt fate any further. At least she could get a few minutes in at the library and finish reviewing her book in peace before their class. With that goal in mind, Hermione gathered her belongings, mumbled a brief goodbye, and scurried out the door.

* * *

Draco tried his best to not stare at her throughout breakfast. He really did. But as soon as that toad Longbottom sat down next to her, Draco couldn't tear his attention away. Did he just follow her everywhere? Draco was at odds with himself. He wanted her to have friends, but not _Longbottom_. Longbottom was a walking hazard. If only Hermione had been sorted into Slytherin. She was talented, clever, articulate. Every Slytherin would have been climbing over themselves to befriend the smartest witch in the school. She could have had any friend she wanted.

"Entrancing, isn't she?" Theodore Nott slyly remarked from the seat next to Draco. "Longbottom seems to think so at least. He's practically hanging on to her every word."

Draco grunted in response. He liked Nott, but Nott could be too perceptive sometimes. It was hard to keep secrets from him, especially for Draco, who was already an open book. Unlike Crabbe and Goyle, Nott could come to conclusions on his own. And Draco did not want to draw attention to his clandestine friendship with Hermione.

The mail arrived, and Draco saw Hermione slip out of the Great Hall leaving Longbottom behind. _Crabbe and Goyle_, Draco thought to himself. _Not a bad idea._

* * *

Draco let out an exasperated sigh, tapping his wand against his leg impatiently. Potter, Weasley, and their merry band of nitwits were late to class again. The field outside was green and soft, and the weather was clear. It was a perfect day for flying, but everyone had to wait for the self-absorbed Gryffindors to show up instead.

Draco was itching to parade his flying skills in front of Hermione. It would be an added bonus to see the envy on Potter's, Weasley's, and Longbottom's faces as well. Last night, Draco had been looking forward to tormenting only Potter and Weasel. But Draco was left feeling unsatisfied after his encounter with Longbottom this morning had been interrupted by Professor McGonagall. Longbottom's generally useless personality and constant presence had been particularly irksome over the last few days, and Draco intended to finish their conversation from this morning.

Hermione had been one of the few to arrive early, and Draco was resisting the urge to catch her eye while they waited. At one point he gave in, but Hermione had her eyes closed and was taking deep breaths.

The Gryffindors finally showed up and Madam Hooch arrived seconds after. She gave brief instructions and before Draco knew it, the class was chorusing "Up!" to their brooms. Draco's broom flew to his hand instantly, as did Harry Potter's. But Hermione's and Longbottom's brooms didn't even make it off the ground. It seemed like Hermione was repeating "Up!" with as many different intonations as possible until one would work.

Draco was barely paying attention to Madam Hooch as she showed the class how to mount their brooms. He was gripping his broom lazily when the professor appeared right in front of him.

"Hold your broom _firmly_, Mr. Malfoy." Madam Hooch corrected his grip. Draco blushed and immediately looked at Hermione to see if she noticed. She had, of course. Hermione was following Madam Hooch's every move, eyes wide as if she was afraid to blink. Draco flushed a bright pink and silently wished he could burrow straight into the ground. He needed to redeem himself. If only he had the opportunity to prove he was an exceptional flyer!

As if on cue, Madam Hooch directed them all to mount their brooms, hover, and touch back down. This was his chance. If he hovered higher than the rest of the class, or stayed in the air for longer, then Hermione would definitely be impressed with his flying skills. They could talk about it in the library at their table and she would gush and tell him how she loved the gift he gave her…

But just as he was about to kick-off and fulfill his fantasy of having Hermione Granger fawn over him, Longbottom stole everyone's attention. Draco watched with mixed feelings of resentment and glee as Longbottom's broom took the boy hostage until he was twenty feet in the air. Then, in true Longbottom form, the boy started to slip, and he hit the ground with a resounding _WHAM_.

Draco wanted to skip with joy until he realized everyone's attention was on the great lump during _his_ moment. He should have expected something like this. Another bloody Gryffindor being doted on by a professor.

Madam Hooch was leading Longbottom to the hospital wing when Pansy leaned over and whispered in Draco's ear, "Didn't I say Little Lumpy Longbottom couldn't do anything right?"

Draco couldn't help but laugh.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: Wow, 48 followers within a week! I shall call you all my "Death Readers" (or is that joke too soon?)

Special Thanks: **nomorechocolatehere, nshaikh281** (for the multiple reviews!), **lexicon63738, AuntCori, **and **lun27** for your lovely words.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

Draco was over the moon. Harry Potter had tried to embarrass him for a second time in front of half their year, and Professor McGonagall intervened just in time. Honestly, he could not have picked a more opportune moment for McGonagall to step in. Potter was still on his broom when she caught him! Granted, he was surprised to see that Potter could fly at all (how was that possible?). But that didn't matter now that Potter would probably be banned from the Quidditch Pitch. McGonagall was positively livid when she whisked him away! Draco could see it now- Potter would never set foot in Hogwarts again, he wouldn't be allowed to perform magic, and everyone would realize that Draco was the better wizard. Draco came from a better family (or rather, just _a_ family), he was more talented, and he wasn't a four-eyed scarhead git.

There was definitely a bounce in Draco's step when he arrived at dinner that evening. Aside from Potter's inevitable expulsion, Longbottom was in the infirmary and Hermione had gotten to see Draco soar across the school grounds. The sun was shining and the birds were chirping. What a wonderful day! With a triumphant smile, he took a seat at the Slytherin table between Crabbe and Goyle, and was shortly approached by Marcus Flint.

Flint may not have looked the part, what with his protruding brow bone and comically uneven teeth, but the sixth-year Slytherin Quidditch Captain was well-respected in the Slytherin house. "Feared" would be an appropriate description as well, for in Slytherin, these words were often interchangeable.

"Malfoy," Flint called over the heavy _thunk-thunk-thunk _of his approaching footsteps. "I heard you're a fair flyer. That you know your way around a broom." Flint stood directly in front of Goyle at this point and gave him an expectant glare. Goyle may have understood very little in life, but he knew when to make space for fear of being shoved.

Draco smirked as Flint dropped in the seat next to him. This day could not get any better. But Draco knew he had to play it cool, so with a shrug he said, "Hm? I have no idea what you're talking about. Even if I _did_ fly around the pitch today, it's not like I'd admit to it. Being a first-year and all."

Flint gave an understanding leer. "Of course not. But if you _were_ as good a flyer as they say, I'd probably mention that Higgs is a seventh-year."

A hush fell among the students sitting nearby. Draco felt his peers' eyes on them.

Higgs leaving this year was information that Draco already knew of course. Terrence Higgs, the current Slytherin Seeker, was almost single-handedly responsible for Slytherin's seven-year House Cup streak. But hearing these words from Marcus Flint was better than anything Draco had imagined.

"Is that so?" Draco asked with a straight face. "That's news to me."

Flint nodded casually. "I also heard you got Potter in trouble."

"Oh, no," Draco innocently denied. "I wouldn't do anything of the sort." He paused with feigned thoughtfulness. "If anything, it's possible that we… had a _conversation_… when Hooch wasn't around and Potter got _himself_ in trouble." Draco knew Flint would eat this up. The Slytherin Captain had a reputation for not caring about the rules, especially when it came to Quidditch. Flint was an excellent Quidditch player in that he knew exactly when the referee was looking and exactly when they weren't, and he seized any opportunity to rough up the opposing team.

Flint's devious smirk grew even wider. Draco could see some meat caught between his teeth.

"I like you, Malfoy. You make a good point. Maybe I shouldn't pay much attention to first-year gossip." Flint gave Draco a daring look. "Potter is still here after all."

Draco immediately turned his head to the Gryffindor table, and his face faltered when he saw Potter and Weasley talking to each other. Potter didn't even look remotely upset. Surely, McGonagall would send him home on the train tonight?

Summoning some resolve, Draco turned back to Flint. "Potter won't be here for long. Don't worry," he said with a sneer. And with a silent signal to Crabbe and Goyle, the three first-years got up and made their way to the Gryffindor table.

* * *

"You didn't have to antagonize him you know," Hermione said from her seat at their library table.

Draco was annoyed that Potter was still at Hogwarts. His stomach gave a slight flutter that he and Hermione had this unspoken agreement to meet in the library in the evenings, but he really didn't want to hear a lecture from her right now.

"Have a crush on Harry Potter, do you?" Draco glared at her icily.

Hermione shot him a reproachful look. "I meant Neville. What did Neville ever do to you?" After a moment she added, "Although I heard you challenge Harry to a wizard's duel as well. You'll get in trouble if Filch catches you, Draco."

For some reason, this made Draco even angrier. She didn't deny his accusation _and_ she was defending Longbottom?

"Potter is a self-absorbed prat and Longbottom is an annoying crybaby. What's it to you, anyway, Granger? It's not like you're _mates_ with them," he sneered. As soon as the words left his mouth, Draco felt the tiniest shred of guilt. He knew she felt like she didn't have many friends. In fact, it was possible that he was her only friend. And he had just thrown her confession to him in her face. Immediately he ignored the feeling.

Hermione's mouth clamped shut and she pursed her lips. Draco felt the suppressed anger radiating from her. That was the wrong thing to say. But it was too late now. She'd just have to deal.

After a several uncomfortably tense seconds, Hermione broke the silence. "No," she brusquely replied. "Maybe not. But _you are_ my friend and you're making a mistake. Think about this logically. I know you don't like Harry. That much was obvious today. But if you sneak around the castle tonight to duel him, the worst you're going to do to him is what? Show off your Protean Charm?" she narrowed her eyes at him as if daring him to mention levitation.

Draco bit the inside of his cheek. He was holding back from saying the words. He knew better than to goad her twice.

Hermione continued. "Worst case scenario is that Filch or Mrs. Norris catch you and _you_ get expelled from Hogwarts instead of Harry." Draco didn't respond to that. "I know you can wander around the castle at night unnoticed," her eyes flitted to the green book on the table between them. "But two nights in a row? Don't press your luck… _Malfoy_." Her amber eyes blazed at him.

Draco knew she had a point. If he wanted Potter thrown out of Hogwarts, a wizard's duel maybe wasn't the most strategic way to go about it. He didn't dare think about how his father would react if he arrived at the Manor, trunk in hand, sheepishly admitting that he challenged Potter to a duel and consequently got kicked out of Hogwarts. Plus, on the off-chance Potter _did_ hit him with a curse or a jinx, Crabbe wouldn't stand a chance. Crabbe had mashed potatoes for brains.

"Fine," Draco conceded. "I won't go to the trophy room tonight. But that doesn't mean I have to tell Potter." A brilliant idea entered his mind. "If Potter happens to go to the trophy room tonight, and Filch happens to be there, then that's on him."

Hermione peered at him suspiciously. "Great," was all she said in response.

Draco stood there awkwardly. "Well then…" He didn't know if she still wanted him there after his spiteful comment.

"Are we studying or not?"

He dropped his bag to the ground and took his seat. She didn't have to tell him twice.

* * *

Draco was infuriated the following day.

He couldn't _believe_ Potter was named Gryffindor seeker! How was that even allowed? Potter was a bloody first year who had never flown a broom before in his whole pathetic life. And he got a bloody Nimbus Two Thousand! Stupid professors with their stupid love for stupid Harry Potter. And Dumbledore actually approved this! Daft old bat.

To say that Draco was seeing red would have been an understatement. He could have screamed. And then that insufferable Potter had to say that it was thanks to _him_. How was this his doing? Potter was the one who was such a _hero_ all the bloody time.

Draco marched down to the dungeons that evening with every curse word he could think of racing through his mind. He had even tipped off that squib, Filch, that a student would be out of bed after hours, and Potter still got away with it. Potter could have broken every school rule and Dumbledore would still pat Potter's head and thank him for existing.

Part of Draco blamed Hermione. Not that she did anything wrong, but she had talked him out of hexing Potter when he had the chance.

* * *

Hermione went straight to the library after dinner. It was their new routine to meet at their table, and Hermione was eager to tell Draco about the events that unfolded the night before. Last night, after she and Draco finished studying in the library (mostly in silence), she stayed up in the Gryffindor common room to intercept Harry. Harry was being reckless and selfish by sneaking out to duel Draco, and Hermione tried to tell him as much, but Harry refused to listen. At least Draco listened to her.

She really wanted to tell Draco about the three-headed dog she saw last night. That's something friends share, right? Sure, she probably should have focused on chastising him for setting up Harry. Or made it known that she did _not_ appreciate the snide comment Draco had made. But in the end, Hermione knew that Draco had spoken impulsively, that he ultimately still listened to her and didn't show up for the duel, and that they would remain friends. And Hermione did appreciate having him as a friend.

Hermione enjoyed having someone to talk to that she didn't always agree with. She'd even call it stimulating. And she respected that Draco worked hard and valued learning. It didn't seem like many Gryffindors cared much for school, and Hermione sometimes wondered if she was sorted into the wrong house given that she was a hatstall. But the thing she liked most about Draco was that he seemed to genuinely appreciate her. Instead of groaning and rolling his eyes at her like most students did, he sought her out every evening and would go out of his way to make her smile.

He was her friend. So it didn't matter as much that Draco openly disliked Gryffindors (she wasn't even sure if she liked most of them), or that he was brash last night. She could forgive him. Perhaps she'd conveniently leave out that she saw this three-headed dog with _Harry, Ron, and Neville_, but she still wanted to tell him about the dog.

Hermione studied and waited in the library for a while until she accepted that Draco wasn't going to show. It would have been easier to think he was just busy, or that something had come up, but Hermione knew what happened. She saw how upset he was yesterday. He needed space. Maybe it was for the best. She didn't need to tell him about the three-headed dog.

Hermione retired to Gryffindor tower that evening, slightly disappointed. Hopefully she'd see him tomorrow.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: We're finally heading into October now! I didn't really / don't intend on making each month 5 chapters long, but I did feel like it was important to spend a couple extra chapters on what the Dramione dynamic was like before it became the Harry/Ron/Hermione club.

Special Thanks: **nshaikh281** for the review 😊 **Lun27** I couldn't have written this much needed chapter without your support!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

Draco sat across from Hermione, glancing at her every now and then as they studied in silence. Sometimes she'd look up and catch his gaze, and she'd offer a small smile in return.

He was upset, to say the least, when he found out Potter had just been named Gryffindor Seeker. Draco hadn't wanted to see anyone that night. If there was any logic to Dumbledore's and McGonagall's decision, Draco _might_ have listened. But the whole situation was completely unfair, so there was nothing anyone could say that would make him feel better. Aware of this fact, Draco holed himself up in his dormitory. He had blamed Hermione in the moment. Maybe a tiny part of him still did. But a day passed without her presence, and Draco felt worse. He still didn't want to talk about it, but he knew seeing her would make him feel better. So he showed up to their table the following evening. Hermione looked up, neither of them said anything, she moved her books from his side of the table, and he took his seat across from her. Two weeks had passed and neither of them exchanged more words than "Goodnight."

Draco peered out the stained window nearest them. It was early October now. The leaves were beginning to tint bright yellow and orange. In the evenings, when the sun set over the edge of the Black Lake, the Scottish Highland hills would glow. With every breeze, the auburn leaves tumbled across the lawn. The lake would glitter under the sun and if you looked closely you could catch a tentacle peek up from the water's surface before dipping back in.

He tried to embrace the calmness. He found comfort in Hermione's presence, in her scratching quill and her rhythmic _hm_s and _ah_s. It was easier to be around her than almost anyone else. The school had been buzzing for the last two weeks. It was practically a media circus. _"Have you heard? Harry Potter's the new Gryffindor Seeker! I always knew he'd do well,"_ Draco had heard the Gryffindor ghost remark. Draco had wanted to vomit on the spot. If looks could kill, the ghost might have died twice. No wonder someone had murdered him.

Most of the castle's inhabitants were no better. Draco could feel Marcus Flint trying to catch his eye for the first few days after the news broke. Draco was too embarrassed and went to great lengths to avoid him, the least of which was scarfing down his dinner so he could leave early. The past two flying classes had been excruciating as well. They had become hour-long sessions of Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan asking Potter about what Quidditch practice was like, which always ended up turning into a debate about Quidditch versus the muggle sport "Football." Muggles were so unimaginative. Then Thursday flying classes were always followed by Friday Potions. This was slightly less painful, as Snape would deduct five points from Gryffindor anytime someone tried to bring up the topic of Potter as the new Seeker. This was predictably followed by a collective snicker from the Slytherins. They were tired of hearing it as well.

The library was his refuge. Hermione understood him. Whenever a Gryffindor mentioned Quidditch in class, Hermione would chastise them with a sharp "_Shush! I'm _trying_ to concentrate!_" If this was for Draco's benefit, Hermione gave no indication of it. She never looked at him. She would just immediately return to her schoolwork, and the Gryffindors would huff and pass notes to each other instead.

He was becoming very fond of Hermione. He didn't need to brag around her, though she indulged him when he did. He didn't need to put on a show as if she was his audience. He could just _be_ around her, and she'd accept it. She accepted him. In the five short weeks he had known her, he found that he truly valued her company.

He broke his gaze from the lake to regard his friend. The orange light bounced off her bushy hair and highlighted half of her face. Light freckles were now visible, but they'd disappear again soon with the setting sun. Within the hour he was sure he'd see her pull out her jar and place a BlueBell on their table.

Hermione must have felt his stare, because she suddenly asked, "Yes, Draco?" without tearing her eyes away from her scroll.

"Nothing," Draco murmured. He returned his attention to the lake.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her look up at him, then out the window as well. After a few seconds she said, "Draco, I've been wondering…" She paused as if unsure how continue. Draco turned back to her and gave her a curious look.

She bit her lip. "Why don't you ever study with any of your Slytherin friends?" She quickly shook her head. "Not to say that I don't enjoy studying with you! I do! But I'm just curious… Don't they ever wonder where you are?"

Draco chuckled. "Are you inviting them?" She gave a thoughtful frown at this. Clearly, she hadn't considered it before. He watched her open and close her mouth a couple of times before putting her out of her misery. "I'm not sure, really," he replied. "We've all known each other a while. But studying has never been something we've done together."

Hermione tilted her head at this. "Well, how are you all friends then?"

Draco paused. He supposed he hadn't ever described his friends before. There had been no need to. "Well… I'd say Nott and Pansy are my best friends – "

" – I thought Crabbe and Goyle?"

"No," he corrected her. "I can see how you'd think so." He wasn't sure where to begin. "All of our families know each other, so the lot of us grew up together. Nott, Pansy, and I were always close. But when we were younger, Crabbe, Goyle, and Millicent didn't really fit in…" He looked for her reaction.

"But why not? If you all grew up together?"

He drew a long breath. "Well, they were just different from us. Crabbe and Goyle didn't really catch on to our jokes. Didn't want to play as much. And we didn't really mind, honestly." Draco felt he was struggling to explain the dynamic.

Hermione nodded slowly. "What changed?"

Draco took a second to consider his next words. "My mother, I suppose? She thought we weren't being nice to them. She pulled me aside one day and gave me a long talk about how wizarding families should be loyal to each other. And that I should try to include them. So I did. And they stuck around." It was ironic, really. Crabbe and Goyle could be thuggish, and not very bright, but honestly they were just two loyal and protective boys.

"And Millicent?"

"Have you seen her?" Draco scoffed. "Crabbe and Goyle aren't nearly as scary. We were all running around playing once and she tackled Nott. Broke his wrist. Nott avoided her after that."

Hermione stifled a laugh. "Okay… and what about the rest?" she inquired.

"Oh, right… Well, Blaise has always kept more to himself. A bit of a private fellow. We get along, but not as close. Same goes for Tracey, I suppose. Daphne used to play with us when we were younger, but she'd get sick, so her mum wanted her to stay home. Pansy is still pretty close with the girls, though."

"Huh," Hermione said. "And none of them pay any mind to where you go after dinner?"

He shrugged. "Not really, no. We don't need to be around each other _all_ the time."

Hermione nodded with understanding. "I guess that makes sense."

Draco felt obligated to ask. "What about you? Why don't you study with your house?" He didn't really want to hear about the Gryffindors, but part of him figured she must not care for them much if she was always studying with him. And if she had something against the Gryffindors, then he didn't mind hearing it.

"They're alright… But I feel like they all paired up, you know? Harry and Ron. Dean and Seamus. Lavender and Parvati. Even Romilda and Eloise. Maybe they're friends out of necessity, to avoid me and Neville, but I don't really mind. They're nice, but the conversations are rather dull, and Neville isn't that bad."

Draco resisted the urge to snort. It didn't work.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. Was she protective of Neville? She stuck her nose in the air. "I think he's actually rather brave."

Draco burst out laughing. "You're _joking_. Longbottom? The boy can't even get through Potions class without trembling in fear." Draco imitated Longbottom's frightened demeanor.

"I never said he wasn't _afraid_," Hermione snapped. "But it takes a lot of courage to wake up every day and face your fears."

Draco scowled at this. He was tempted to ask her if she fancied Longbottom. He opened his mouth to make the retort, but quickly decided against it. He had already accused her of having a crush on Potter, and asking her again about Longbottom might make her think he was jealous. Which he wasn't. So with a controlled voice, he asked "And you? What are you afraid of?" to change the subject.

Hermione turned her head to gaze out the window. The dimming light bounced off her features. "I don't really like flying."

He believed it. It was no secret she was having trouble in flying class. It was so strange to watch her be so overeager in Potions to the point of being borderline annoying, and then see her look at her broom with complete trepidation. Hermione could barely get three feet in the air without thrusting her handle down to return to the ground. He once watched her do this a dozen times in a row while talking to herself ("_Okay. Okay, Hermione. You can do this. Slowly, Yes, that's it. No, no it's not!_"). He so badly wanted to give her direction and encourage her. Maybe show off a _little_ bit in class. But that would be a bad idea.

"Do you have any fears?" she asked before he could respond.

Draco immediately scoffed. "Me? No," he answered reflexively. Malfoys weren't afraid.

"Oh, come on, Draco. Everyone is afraid of something."

He didn't like where this conversation was headed. He looked away. His entire upbringing revolved around not showing weakness. Malfoys were always in control. How could someone who was vulnerable ever command power or respect? Power and respect were the pillars of the Malfoy legacy.

If she was a muggleborn, he was taught not to trust her at all.

Hermione placed her hand on his. She was touching him. He had never touched her before. He stared at her hand on his, unable to move. Should he move his thumb? Should he pull away? Maybe he could pretend to sneeze so he wouldn't have to choose. "It's fine. You don't have to tell me," she offered. He froze. When he didn't respond, she pulled her hand back. "We can talk about something else. Or we can go back to studying." Her reassuring tone almost masked the disappointment in her voice.

She wasn't touching him anymore. Her hand was back on her quill.

Draco's eyes caught hers.

She gave him an understanding smile.

He thought back to the last few weeks._ She accepted him. She accepted him. She accepted him. _

Draco steadied himself. "I don't want to disappoint my parents. Mainly my father." That was all the information he was willing to offer.

Silence hung between them for moment before she responded. "Thank you for telling me. I'm sure that took some courage." She then reached for her jar, murmured a quick spell, and a blue flame came to life between them.


End file.
